The BLTS Archive- My Chakotay
#15: Holy Ground
by MaisieRita (MaisieRita@aol.com)
---

copyright 1999

Disclaimer: Paramount owns 'em. I borrow 'em from time to time.

Warning: This will make no sense if you haven't read the first
fourteen. I will accept no blame for any confusion you may suffer if
you read this segment without having read the others first.

Feedback: Please! All constructive comments will be seriously
considered. Grammar nits welcome.

---

Chaos erupts.

As soon as Tom shoots the phaser, before his body has even fallen to
the ground, the demons start shrieking. Their cries, thunderous,
monstrous, inhuman wails of fear and anger, echo around the small
clearing, folding in on themselves and blotting out all other sound.
Whether or not the demons are in actual pain is debatable. That they
are furious is not.

They're ignoring me, so I bend down and examine Tom's body, laying
motionless on the ground. I didn't think it was possible to commit
suicide on the spirit plane, and I'm not sure what the ultimate
consequences of that act will be. All I know is that Tom - - or
rather, his soul -- is far beyond my reach.

I reach out to stroke his face, maybe to memorize it, only to have his
body disappear before my fingers reach him. He simply fades away, as
if he'd never been. The demons start screaming louder and swarm
furiously around the clearing, looking for a host who is no longer
present.

A bit belatedly, I notice my Guide sitting serenely next to me, coiled
neatly around himself and staring at the spot where Tom's corpse -- or
the semblance of his corpse -- was laying just moments ago. "You did
well, Chakotay," he says softly.

Impotent anger and frustration wash through me. "Tom killed himself."

"His choice," my Guide answers. "He is free of the demons now."

"What good does it do him? He's *dead*."

"That remains to be seen."

I scowl. "He shot himself in the heart."

My Guide sighs and, though it is impossible for a snake to shrug,
shrugs. "After all this time, I find it discouraging that you still
haven't learned this simple lesson. Things are not always what they
seem, Chakotay. Especially here."

For the first time I wonder what's happening back in the physical
world. I don't even know how long we've been gone. For all my father's
warnings about not being able to find my way back without an akoonah
to guide me, I am no longer worried about returning. I can feel the
physical world pulling at me, and I know I can get back there. Yet,
looking around at the demons furiously flying around my clearing, I am
reluctant to leave.

"Don't worry," my Guide says, answering my unspoken fears. "They won't
be here when you return."

I'm relieved. "I thought they might be trapped here."

"No," he answers. "In truth, they were never really here to begin
with."

"But . . . " I splutter. "I saw them. I *still* see them. I saw Tom-"

"Tom was here. The demons weren't."

"But-"

He sighs. "They were not here in the way they think. They are not
human, Chakotay. They no more belong in your spirit realm than they do
in your physical realm. They can not exist here without a conduit."

"Tom?"

He nods. "It is through him that they entered. By sacrificing himself
he has removed their anchor to this plane, and now it is *you* who is
keeping them here. Once you leave this place, they will lose their
access to your world."

I nod, relieved. "Then I'd better get back to Voyager and see what's
happening."

"A good idea. That ship tends to fall apart without you."

I grin, and close my eyes to bring myself back to the physical world.

---

"Chakotay? Chakotay, can you hear me?"

It takes a minute for my brain to process the words, but when I do I
manage to croak, "Yes."

"Thank god. We were beginning to think you weren't coming back." It's
Kathryn, leaning over the biobed and gently holding onto my hand.

I try to sit up and immediately regret it as every muscle in my body
screams in protest.

"Careful," Kathryn warns gently. "An hour ago you were on life
support."

Her face is drawn and haunted. "Tom?" I guess.

"He nearly killed you," she answers softly. "We couldn't stop him. We
couldn't even get near him. If he hadn't collapsed when he did-"

I have a vivid vision of Tom's body crumpling to the ground on the
spirit plane. "Is he dead?"

"No." She turns and looks where the Doctor is busily working on Chell
on another biobed. "Not yet."

"He's dying." Even though I expected it, it's still hard to imagine
Tom really gone. My Guide's voice echoes in my mind. <His choice.>

Kathryn answers with a short nod. "He's in a coma. The doctor says his
body has shut down. It's just a matter of time, now."

<His choice.> I shut my eyes in an effort to banish the reptilian
voice. "What about the others?"

Kathryn frowns. "Dalby, Jackson, and Suarez are dead. B'Elanna's been
released. The others are stable." She turns, and I follow her gaze to
where Tom is lying in a biobed, behind a forcefield and under the
watchful scrutiny of six heavily armed security officers.

"You won't need the guards anymore. The demons are gone."

She relaxes infinitesimally. "They are?"

"Yes. Most of them, at any rate. The ones who are left don't pose a
significant threat."

She absorbs the news silently for a minute. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't. Tom did." Regret washes over me as I look at his still and
silent form lying on the biobed. "He did the right thing in the end,
Kathryn."

"It cost him his life."

I answer in a whisper. "His choice."

We keep vigil for several more hours, waiting for an end we know is
inevitable. As the time drags on I feel more and more disconnected
from reality. It's as if I've been living my entire life in this
Sickbay, waiting for Tom to breathe his last, and I'm having trouble
envisioning my life with him no longer in it. The steady drone of the
biomonitors is almost hypnotic, and I can't quite get my eyes to focus
on the readouts.

It's while I'm in this dazed state that the ghosts appear.

I grab Kathryn's arm. "Do you see them?" I whisper.

Her eyes dart around Sickbay fearfully. It's completely
uncharacteristic terror; the demons have shaken her more than any of
the nasty aliens we've
faced. "The demons? Are they back?"

"No," I say, still whispering. "Not demons. Ghosts." Silently, I stare
at the three specters slowly and somberly making their way across
Sickbay. They appear exactly as they did when I saw first them in the
spirit world: fourth year cadets, still dressed in uniform. Although I
can see their mouths moving,
I can't hear what they're saying. The slow beeping of the monitors
attached to Tom's body sounds suddenly loud and ominous. "They've come
for him," I realize, saying it at the same time as I think it.

Kathryn glances around nervously, but clearly doesn't see anything.
"Who are they?"

"His friends," I answer. "The ones who died in the accident . . . I
think they've come to take him with them."

She shoots a stricken look at me. I swallow hard and think of all the
times Tom's cheated death, and waste an instant wishing that he'd
managed to pull it off one more time. "At least he'll be happy with
them," I mutter softly.

Kathryn spares me only a brief look before turning her eyes back to
Tom. "You think so?"

"Yes." I believe it, firmly. "He loved them. I think all he's ever
wanted was to be with them again."

Kathryn takes a deep breath and surreptitiously wipes a tear out of
the corner of her eye. "Then we should be happy for him."

I nod sadly. "Maybe they'll find some peace now. All of them." The
ghosts walk right through the forcefield and surround the biobed. The
big blond man takes position on one side, wrapping his hand gently
around Tom's, while the other man moves to the identical position on
Tom's other side. The young lady is standing near Tom's head, and
bends down to brush a soft kiss across his unnaturally pale lips.

She pauses for a second, as if waiting for him to respond, then raises
her head, wearing an expression so tender it's almost painful to see.
She traces one finger in a caress along Tom's cheek, and rests the
other on his chest, curled into a small fist. Then, without warning,
she turns her head and looks directly at me.

For a second I gaze into her eyes, reading the infinite wisdom etched
into the eternal blue, then I whisper softly, "Take care of him for
us."

A soft smile crosses her face, and she shakes her head in mute
negation. Wordlessly she unclenches the fist resting on Tom's chest
and pulls it away, leaving in its place a glowing orb of light
hovering in the air. It floats there, hanging motionless above Tom's
chest, for as long as it takes me to whisper, "Oh, my god." And then
slowly, smoothly, the light sinks down and
settles into Tom.

The young woman kisses Tom's lips again, then smiles at me and shrugs
gently. This time when she speaks I can hear it, in a faint whisper.
"Tell him we'll be waiting."

In a flash, all three ghosts disappear, and the only noise in the room
is the constant beeping of the monitors, growing stronger and
steadier.

"Chakotay," Kathryn says breathlessly, staring at the displays that
show the impossible happening, "what's going on?"

I don't answer for an instant, and in that time the Doctor hurries out
of his office and over to Tom's bedside, medical tricorder at the
ready. "I was wrong," I whisper finally. "The ghosts didn't come to
take him away." I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. "They came
to bring him back home."

The Doctor is shaking his head in disbelief, already running test
after test to verify what the monitors are showing us.

"He's going to be okay," Kathryn predicts with relief, gracing me with
one of her rare heart-stopping smiles.

I nod, but don't really allow myself to believe it until an hour later
when Tom finally wakes up. His eyes, when he at last opens them, are
beautifully, brilliantly blue.

---

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes."

I look at him doubtfully. "Tom, there's no need to rush into this. If
you're not ready . . . "

"I'm ready. Just a little nervous, that's all.

"We can wait-"

"We've waited for two weeks."

"Then a little longer won't hurt."

"I need to see where it happened, Chakotay. I need to go there and
still be me. Can't you understand that?" I study his face for a
minute, see the determination and desperation written there, and
relent. "Yes."

We're seated on the floor in my quarters -- "holy ground", Tom
christened it jokingly -- and my medicine bundle is spread out between
us. It's nothing but sheer force of habit that compels me to use the
akoonah and ancient chants; since my journey into the spirit world two
weeks ago I haven't needed any
help finding my way there. Still, it's comforting to follow the
ritual, and I'll admit that it helps me focus in the face of Tom's
obvious agitation.

Tom places his hand on the akoonah, resting it lightly on my hand, and
closes his eyes. Internally I feel the familiar shift that signals
that we're no longer where we were, and I open my eyes to find us at
the  outskirts of the clearing. Surprisingly, Tom is a few steps ahead
of me, gazing with rapt fascination at the empty meadow.

"No demons," I say, hoping to reassure him.

He turns to look at me, raising an eyebrow. "Did you expect any?"

"I thought you might."

He turns away again to look at the clearing. "This is *your* sacred
place, Chakotay. They can't come back here unless you invite them. I
thought you knew that."

I'm a bit taken aback at his calm conviction. "I did. I just didn't
realize that *you* knew it."

Even in profile, I can see the answering frown creasing his forehead,
and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking. I used to think I knew
him as well as anyone aboard Voyager, but I understand now that I
don't know him at all.

Tom stands there silently for another minute, seemingly hesitant to
take the few steps that will bring him onto the grassy area. "Where's
the snake?" he asks, finally.

"I'm sure he's around."

"He's your guide, right? Do I need his permission to go in?"

I hide my grin, but it's a wasted effort since Tom isn't looking at
me. "No, although he'd probably say differently if you asked him. At
any rate, he's not a separate entity. Despite appearances, he's just a
manifestation of my subconscious."

Tom turns to me, honestly startled. "You don't really believe that, do
you?"

"Yes?" Despite myself, my answer comes out as a question.

Tom shakes his head. "I thought you understood how this place works."

"I do?" Again, despite myself, it's more of a question than a
statement.

"Obviously not." He offers no further explanation, and instead takes a
deep breath and places one tentative foot onto the grass in front of
him. "I guess it's now or never." Once his foot is firmly in the
clearing, he's committed, and he starts walking with a steady pace
towards the center of the field. I match his pace, and we walk
together in silence. When we reach the log where I found Tom in the
midst of the demons, he comes to a stop and takes a look around the
empty meadow. "It's so peaceful."

I nod. "I've always thought so."

He breathes deeply, restfully. "It's nice to be alone here."

Another voice answers him. "You're not alone." It's my Guide, sunning
himself at the far end of the log.

Tom nods to him and apologizes, "Sorry, we didn't see you there."

"I'm not talking about *me*," my Guide says crossly. "You humans are
so literal. You never look beyond the obvious."

Tom and I both take a reflexive glance around, but the clearing is
empty. "There's no one else here," Tom says in confusion.

"Then you're not looking hard enough," my Guide answers, the
uncharacteristic compassion in his voice removing the sting from his
words. "Can't you see
them? They've been waiting for you."

Tom turns around again, all the way around, and when his eyes land
back on the log he lets out a strangled cry and takes an involuntary
step backwards. His throat is working but no sounds are coming out,
and he's so pale I'm afraid he might faint.

It's only then that I see them, sitting on the log, side by side,
dressed in their uniforms and smiling at us.

"Oh god." Tom's shaking his head and backing away. "You're not . . .
you can't be . . . you *can't* be . . ."

"But we are, Tommy," the young woman says, her French accent soft and
lovely "Who else would we be?"

The man with the brown hair rises and takes a few steps forward,
holding out his hand, palm down. A few drops of bright red blood fall
to the ground and disappear into the grass. "Remember the oath, Tom?
'Brothers in all but blood, and now in blood as well.' I think we were
ten."

"Eleven," Tom whispers, stricken. "In your backyard."

"We used your dad's pocketknife," the ghost says, grinning. "You were
petrified he was going to find out you'd taken it without asking."

"He did," Tom whispers back. "I was grounded for a week." He's staring
at the other man through a hazy veil of tears, and his voice is full
of anguish. "Charlie-"

The ghost grins wryly. "Surprise, Tommy."

The tears are running freely down Tom's face now, but I don't think he
even notices. He moves to take a step closer to the other man, but
abruptly stops the movement in mid-step, pausing awkwardly a step away
from the spectral figure. "God, Charlie, I've missed you."

"I know." The ghost moves the distance Tom is unable to. "But we've
been with you all along. You just never knew it."

I blink back tears of my own and when my vision clears again Tom is
sobbing and wrapped tightly in the warm embrace of his three friends.
"I'm so sorry," he's whispering, over and over and over, "I'm so
sorry."

I can't watch this. It's too private and too painful, and for the
first time I feel like an outsider in this place. My Guide has somehow
wrapped himself around a convenient branch, and is hanging upside
down, his head at the same level as my own. "Don't worry," he says
softly, "I'll help him find his way back."

It's tacit approval to leave. I risk one last look at Tom, then close
my eyes, letting the pull of the physical world draw me back home.

It takes over two hours for Tom to return, and in that time I've
thoroughly cleaned my cabin and have even run my laundry through the
refresher. I spend the rest of the time just staring at Tom, wondering
at the bonds that tie his friends to him, even now, a decade after
their death. I wonder how he's found the strength to go on, knowing
that it was his error that killed them. I wonder a lot of things.

Finally Tom stirs, and I replicate a hot cup of herbal tea and bring
it to his side. He blinks a few times, orienting himself, and accepts
the tea gratefully. I don't ask any questions, but wait instead for
him to speak.

"They apologized," he says, finally, in a voice barely above a
whisper. He looks up at me and his eyes are reddened and full of
disbelief. "They asked me to forgive them. Me, forgive *them*."

"They feel responsible for the demons."

He shakes his head. "How could I blame them, hold them responsible,
for *anything*? I *killed* them."

"It was an accident. They don't blame you. They love you."

He breathes out half a sob. "I miss them so much. Still. It isn't any
easier, Chakotay. Ten years later and it hurts just as much."

I don't have an answer for that, and Tom doesn't seem to expect one.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it," he says softly, staring at the
tea. "I don't even have B'Elanna any more. We weren't perfect, but she
got me through a lot of the bad times."

"You still have me," I offer. "I know it's not the same, but you must
know by now that I'll help you any way I can."

"I know you will." He falls silent for a minute and his eyes lose
focus. "Will you take me back to the clearing some day? I don't think
they'll be there, but . . . I'll be closer to them, just by being
there."

"Of course. Any time you want to go, just ask me."

"Thanks."

I touch him gently on the arm. "Just promise me one thing. If you need
my help, you'll ask for it."

He nods. "I promise."

I let out a deep breath and relax back against the couch. The lamp on
the table casts shadows on the floor and against the walls. They no
longer frighten me. For the first time in weeks, I feel stronger than
the darkness.

---

The End